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Four air purifiers whirred,the DuctMaster 5000 rumbled, and my XTreme Power steam cleaner roared across the carpet like a Ford Mustang on the final lap of a NASCAR race.

A few days ago, I’d heeded the moon’s call and turned into a powerful and noble wolf, hunting magnificent prey with my pack. Now, I was attempting to eradicate the smell of cigarette smoke from an apartment. As my sons had been quick to point out before they’d left home, my life wasn’t the most glamorous. Orbussin. That had been their word.

“Hi, Luna,” came a call over the noisy equipment. Bolin, my twenty-three-year-old intern, leaned into the entrance of the apartment. “Should you have the door open with your back to it when there are known muggers in the area?”

“Don’t worry. I’m armed.” I patted the machine I was wielding with two parts efficiency and one part irritation. We had a no-smoking-indoors rule that was highlighted no fewer than four times in the lease, but Mrs. Chang had desecrated the unit with her two-packs-a-day Marlboro habit. There was no way I would refund her damage deposit.

“With… a vacuum cleaner?”

“It’s a one-hundred-and-seventy PSI commercial-grade carpet cleaner that heats the water tank to two-hundred-and-ten degrees Fahrenheit.” I hefted the steam wand. “I could flay every skin cell off your body from here.”

Bolin wrinkled his nose. “Flaying involves peeling skin away. You’d be scalding someone with that.”

“What’s the origin of the word flay? Are yousureit’s not appropriate? Did you ever get any words that simple in your fancy collegiate spelling bees?”

“I did not, no. But it’s from the Old English flean, which came from the Old Norse word fla meaningto peel.”

“Wow, you even know roots that aren’t Latin or Greek?”

“English words have antecedents from all over the world. The more you learn about where something originates, the more you’ll know about it as a whole.”

When my intern had first shown up without warning, I hadn’t wanted him, especially since he was the son of my wealthy employers, the Sylvans, who owned this complex and many others. But, with a mixed heritage that included a grandfather who’d been a real druid out of Ireland, Bolin had turned out to be unexpectedly helpful, even employing magic to eradicate mold in one of the units. Doing something useful for the complex was the quickest way to my heart. That and high-quality dark chocolate.

“You probably didn’t want to know all that,” Bolin admitted sheepishly.

“I did ask.”

Bolin tilted his head, as if I were a curiosity. Or maybe ararity. “You did, didn’t you?”

I turned off the steam cleaner so we wouldn’t have to yell over the noise, though I left the air purifiers running. It would take a lot to get this apartment rentable again. I had a vinegar solution with vapors potent enough to kill flies—and possibly small mammals—waiting so I could spray all the window screens.

“You’re useful, Bolin. I hope your parents are paying you well for this gig.”

The next nose wrinkle was so intense that it showed me all the hair in his nostrils. “They’re not paying me at all for it. As I think I told you before, I’m earning real-world experience and proving my worth before they hand me the reins to arealjob with their company.”

“The one that involves traveling to their apartments in exotic places?” I recalled he’d mentioned Saint Lucia and Singapore, among others.

“Yes.” Bolin sighed wistfully as he looked toward the drizzle pattering on the fallen leaves that had coated the lawn since my last pass with the backpack blower.

When I’d been a teenage girl turning into a wolf and hunting with my pack, I’d never envisioned the collection of power tools and cleaning equipment that I would one day wield.

“They must at least pay you an allowance. You spend fifteen dollars on coffee drinks before the workday even begins.” I hadn’t seen my caffeine-powered intern arrive at the complex in the mornings with fewer than two espresso-stand beverages clutched in his hands. “And I’m positive gas for your Mercedes G-Wagon costs a pretty penny. What’s that get? Three, four miles per gallon?”

“Ha ha.”

“Iknowit’s not more than twenty.”

“It’s thirteen. Fifteen if I will magical power into it when I park it at night.”

“Are you allowed to use druidnaturemagic to enhance gas-powered monstrosities?” I asked. “That seems like it should be against the rules. In fact, I’m surprised your blood doesn’t compel you to wreck that SUV against a tree. Or maybe a boulder. You wouldn’t want to damage a tree.”

Bolin squinted at me. “Your truck isn’t an eco-blessing either.”

“It’s a small truck, gets okay gas mileage, and I use it to haul supplies and equipment for work. The only thing I’ve seen you use your SUV for is to tote you and your coffee cups.”

Bolin took a pointed sip from his beverage. “I don’t think one of your duties as my mentor is to insult me.”